


Unit 501

by flailingthroughsanity



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apartments, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: Myungsoo meets the repairman for his building one day and he’s kinda sure that ‘accidentally’ breaking things isn’t something one should be proud of. Howon, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading old works that have never seen the light of day - nothing of substance, made just for fun. :)

**Unit 501**   
**flailingthroughsanity**

Myungsoo meets the repairman for his building one day and he’s kinda sure that ‘accidentally’ breaking things isn’t something one should be proud of. Howon, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to mind.

* * *

 

Working at Woollim brought a lot to the table, more than what Kim Myungsoo originally thought. Sure, the hours are longer and his colleagues are far more skilled and talented at the job than him and he’s a little terrified that they’d realize he was some sort of conman and they’d fire him, but all in all, the new apartment isn’t half-bad.

Way better than the dump he was living in previously, what with his meager pay (and that black stain on the ceiling that had him thinking of meth junkies and shoot-outs).

So, yes, in a way, despite the pressure working at a top-tier company, Myungsoo finally has things looking up for him.

That was until the showerhead cracked and almost split his skull open during his evening routine.

∞

He just wants to reiterate that it wasn’t _his_ fault.

While the apartment was indeed new, and it was located in a more upscale district of the city — which was a big relief compared to where his previous apartment was located, and Myungsoo can still recall walking fast with his hand on his phone, ready to call the police, as he cuts past dark alleys and people huddled in suspicious groups and he’s not a judgmental person, okay, but he was pretty happy he wasn’t living somewhere near a drug hide-out now.

Still, just because he has a new apartment doesn’t mean that everything was _new_.

Myungsoo was still broke, sort of. And he still hasn’t completely settled in.

Hand on the bruise threatening to turn purple, Myungsoo dialed the building’s super. With how high the rent is, it was simply pure luck that apartment repairs and fixes were already part of the package and he didn’t have to dish out more cash for it. Any more, and he’d have to go back to that old hellhole, and no thank you.

_Please, pick up, Please, pick up._

The ringing ended and a click, followed by a groggy, irritated “‘ello? Lee Howon.” and Myungsoo froze. It wasn’t that late, right?

He glanced at the wall-clock hanging on top of the door, read **7:23 PM** and bit his lip. It wasn’t late, yet, but it did seem like the guy just woke up…and he was in a pretty bad mood.

“Uh…hi?”

“Wha?” Came the reply, a yawn underlying the tiredness in his voice.

Myungsoo mumbled something about showerhead and crack.

“Your head cracked?”

Eyes widening. “No! I mean, the showerhead cracked and…I don’t know how to fix it?”

A grunt answered his call for help and the sound of someone climbing off a bed followed. “Unit?”

“Huh? Myungsoo isn’t dumb. Seriously. Honestly.

“Unit.” A yawn. “Unit number.” More irritation. Myungsoo gripped the phone tighter.

“Um…501. Kim Myungsoo.”

“Got it.” A brief silence, punctuated by the dialtone and Myungsoo placed the phone back to its holder. Lightly rubbing the bruise, feeling spikes of pain and pleasure drumming against his forehead, Myungsoo let out a sigh of relief.

He looks around his apartment and grimaces.

 _Well, that was interesting_.

∞

When his contract with Woollim as one of their photographers pushed through, it was the big break Myungsoo had been waiting for his whole…well, twenty-three years of life. He had been a free-lance photographer prior to that, and although the free time and a versatile schedule meant more time to hang out with his friends and watch re-runs of Pokémon, the not-so-steady flow of income did often leave him in a precarious situation with the rent — even for his previous dump. Living in Seoul meant skyrocketing apartment prices, regardless of whether or not you can get a staph infection looking at the ceiling. He often had to call home, work two or three odd jobs here and there (including a very embarrassing and never-will-do-again one where he had to wear some kind of bee costume and entertain kids) and sometimes ask his friends just to make ends meet.

It was a pretty rough phase of his life.

But when he finally signed his name down on that contract, it was the one-eighty spin he needed and he rewarded himself — new clothes, new apartment and a new out-look on life. Even when his superiors can sometimes be a little diabolical with their deadlines and schedules, Myungsoo was determined to prove his worth and make everyone see he deserved to be where he was right now.

He’s a professional.

Or was.

It was kind of difficult to be a professional — or even _be_ professional — when the person standing in front of him was like a three-dimensional cut out of a fashion magazine. So, Myungsoo’s lean, and his a little tall and people have always told him he was good-looking but it was hard to see that now when the ~~god~~ person in front of him looked so deliciously good in tight dark jeans, showing off his thick thighs, crumpled tee gloriously exposing his muscular arms, hair messy and a face scrunched up from sleep, including thick furrowed brows and lips formed into a slightly annoyed frown.

Fuck.

He’s always known that he was attracted to guys.

Problem was: the guy in front of him was probably attractive to _everyone_.

“Showerhead?” Mr. Eyebrows asked. Myungsoo gapes.

“Uh?”

A frown. “This is 501, right?”

_What’s 501?_

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Oh. Yeah. Showerhead.” Myungsoo blabbers, or manages anyhow, and he sidesteps to the let the repairman in. The man — Lee Howon, Myungsoo remembers — looks like he’s barely resisting to sneer in Myungsoo’s direction, and he ducks his head as the man passes by. He turns to follow him.

And promptly feels his face redden (and hears Satan laugh) as his eyes land on that _ass_.

It was plump…and _big_ and it looked toned and firm the way those dark jeans hugged them. Every time the repairman so much as moved a leg, the seams of the jeans creased and it looked like it might pop (which Myungsoo may have hoped for in the nanosecond it took for his brain to fall into the gutter).

He could probably bounce a dime off it…

The sound of a door creaking has Myungsoo breaking his gaze away from the repairman’s glorious ass, and he promptly feels shame fill him with what he’s just done. Dear Lord…

“Huh…you weren’t kidding.” Lee Howon mutters, and Myungsoo breaks away from his self-deprecating thoughts and peers at the repairman, who was standing by the doorsill of the bathroom.

With his mind now _out_ of the gutter and he feels brain juice working, it was a little surprising how Howon managed to figure out where the bathroom was — then again the layout of the apartment was pretty generic, and it was most likely similar to all the others. This, also, probably isn’t Howon’s first time to fix something for a tenant; he could have likely known the entire building layout by now.

“Yeah. I would have fixed it myself, but it cracked the tile soon after. Hammered me pretty bad, too.” Myungsoo responds, a hand unconsciously lifting to the pink bruise that was beginning to darken.

Howon turns and he looks at the bruise on Myungsoo’s forehead, dark eyes taking it in nonchalantly before making another ‘huh’ sound and turning back to the bathroom.

∞

In most social situations, Myungsoo can pretty much say that he can handle himself well. Then again, a hot repairman with toned arms and down on his knees, crawling on his bathroom floor, delectable ass in tight jeans up in the air, wasn’t really the central character in those situations.

He stands there, by the kitchen island, and he looks around — unsure of what to do. Should he go back to work? He still had a collection to go through. Maybe he should ask Howon if he needed help, or anything? But he’d probably get in the way or something.

Offer the guy something to drink? A reward?

Myungsoo gulped. That certainly reminded him of a certain adult video with a repairman and a guy who didn’t have cash to pay him with…

Shaking his head, as if physically refusing the thought, Myungsoo turns back and sits on the beaten couch, determined not to ogle Howon’s ass.

Which was still miraculously, gloriously up in the air.

∞

Howon wanted to hit himself so bad. The kid was the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. Kim Myungsoo was taller than him — a few inches or so — lean and so good-looking and he had the most sinfully adorable lips _ever_. The way he pouted when he reached up to rub the bruise on his forehead (someone give the kid a medal, guy survived getting hit with a metal showerhead), lower lip jutting out, nose scrunched in discomfort, had Howon itching to grab him and just… _do_ something to him.

Something preferably with his own lips.

It also didn’t help that he felt like some crackhead in his dirty white tee and the jeans he’d pick off the floor when he answered the kid’s call a while ago. He’s still convinced that there was vomit on the right pant-leg from his shift last night at the bar, but he had been too exhausted to clean himself up, knowing he’d probably get dirty again fixing.

He didn’t expect walking into the apartment of South Korea’s cutest twink, though.

He knew working as a bouncer wasn’t really on top of his dream list, but that and working as the building repairman kept food on the table — and he’s still holding on to that hope that his friend, Dongwoo, would finally open a new spot in his dance school. Still, hoping didn’t pay the bills, so he kept at the job, no matter how many times he tells himself every night to quit.

Nevertheless, it didn’t make him feel any less of a loser as he heads to the bathroom, watching Myungsoo biting his lip, worry in his eyes and—

 _Fuck_.

∞

“I managed to get it back and running, so it’s good now.” Lee Howon announces, stepping out of the bathroom just as Myungsoo stands up from the couch, portfolio in his hands.

“Really?” He asks, and he wonders as Howon nods, looking anywhere but him; at the still empty walls, the boxes strewn everywhere and everything that just screamed ‘new tenant’.

Myungsoo feels his face heating up. He knew that his stuff weren’t exactly, well, high-class considering the job he has now, but he had been running a little low on funds (considering his new wardrobe, which was expensive, thank you very much) and he was still saving up in order to buy new furniture. Well, as new as he can afford without resorting to some shady website (and ending up with a bed with a roachnest inside, just in case). Still, he was a little embarrassed. Howon wouldn’t only think Myungsoo was some klutz, but a slob as well. Which he’s not.

He has the ‘Cleanliness Award’ certificate from kindergarten school to prove it.

“Ah, thanks so much.” He says, setting his portfolio down.

The repairman shrugged, muttering a quiet “It’s my job.”

“Thanks any way,” he says and follows him out, shutting the door completely before he leans against it and prays to his ancestors for help.

∞

Myungsoo will attest to his dying day that he is a professional — that he has a professional job, he holds a degree and that he’s pretty well-versed in social etiquette.

Intentionally breaking the showerhead again is not a sign of professionalism.

Not when he did it just so he could see Lee Howon again.

To be fair — Myungsoo only wanted to _loosen_ the head, maybe ease it off a bit from the tube and let it drip a bit. What he didn’t expect to happen was the head literally dislodging from its port and water rapidly gushing down.

Barefoot, pants rolled up past his ankles, Myungsoo run — slides, more like it — all the way to the phone.

“Hi, this is Kim Myungsoo. From 501.” He mutters as Howon picks up on the other line.

“Oh, hey.” The repairman sounds less irritated this time, and Myungsoo bites his lip. “What can I do for you?”

Myungsoo pauses for a bit — and he remembers the newly-broken-after-it-had-been-fixed showerhead.

“Uh…the showerhead fell and there’s, uh, water everywhere?”

∞

This time, Howon’s a little prepared.

He hasn’t had the courage to drop by Myungsoo’s apartment — even under the guise of a check-up on the repairs a week prior (it’s total bullshit, Howon never does his rounds).

Sometimes, he tells himself to just man up and knock on Myungsoo’s door and ask the guy out for coffee or something, but he never can seem to pull up the bravado to actually go through with it. He doesn’t know why — he’s pretty confident with himself — maybe it’s because he knows Myungsoo is some artsy guy, or he probably works a cool job and Howon’s just a deadbeat repairman by day, bouncer by night. At the thought, his mood drops a bit but he shakes his head, knowing that it’ll improve by the time he reaches unit 501.

Howon’s decided to spruce up a bit for this occasion — he’s wearing his best jeans, the one that’s sure to get him laid by the end of the night and a nice, _clean_ white tee that shows off his muscles and he ruffles his hair a bit. He glances at himself in the mirror, likes what he sees and sets off for his cutie’s apartment.

What greets him when he knocks and the door opens surprises him.

It’s Myungsoo, dressed in a black sweater that brings attention to his neck and collarbones (Howon, _behave_ ) and he’s _barefoot oh god._

“Hi,” Myungsoo greets and a bright smile blinds Howon for a second.

He’s about to respond when he feels his feet getting wet and looks down to see water seep out of Myungsoo’s apartment.

∞

Myungsoo is dying.

He is literally dying.

When he heard the knock on the door, he was pretty sure it was Howon and had steeled himself in anticipation of meeting the handsome repairman again.

Howon was handsome, alright, handsome and downright _sexy_. The first time they met dimmed to how Howon looked when he opened the door: messy hair, tight white shirt showing off his biceps and those _jeans, oh someone help him_. He honestly had a hard time holding himself back from just jumping Howon and letting him have his wicked way with him, then and there.

Until the water flooded past the bathroom, down his living room and into the hallway outside his apartment.

Reiterating: Myungsoo is dying.

Dying because Howon is now on his knees, tight ass in the air again, as he leans down next to the toilet bowl and closes the valve that connected to the entire piping system in Myungsoo’s apartment.

Myungsoo is standing outside the bathroom, mop in one hand (still not done with mopping the rest of the apartment) and he watches as Howon stand back up, wet from the once-gushing showerhead and his white shirt is soaked through and through and Myungsoo was right the first time around — those were really muscles under that thin white tee.

“Well, this wasn’t what I expected.” Howon remarks, and he turns his head to flash a wide grin, and Myungsoo stares a little too intently at one canine flashing at him.

“Um. Yeah. I didn’t know what happened.” Myungsoo lies. He feels warm, suddenly. He’s sure his face is red. Even his feet. Or maybe that’s just the flames of hell licking at his feet.

“I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t mean to get you this…wet.” Myungsoo continues, albeit weakly.

“Oh, this?” Howon looks down on his shirt, looking surprised and as if he just noticed that his shirt was wet. He waves a hand at Myungsoo’s direction. “It’s not a problem.”

And then, apparently, decides to outright murder Myungsoo as he pulls the shirt above his head and off him.

Myungsoo is wide-eyed, his jaw slack.

Howon crumples the shirt into a ball and starts wiping the droplets off his chest and Myungsoo is too helpless to stop himself from taking in all that tan skin, the bumps and ridges of those abs, those dark nipples and the way Howon is caressing his own skin.

Unbidden, his trail follows down his abs and to that enticing trail that ended right at hem of Howon’s jeans.

Someone just shoot him now. Please.

∞

Howon can’t help but smirk to himself as he walks back to his room, still shirtless and his jeans still wet. It doesn’t really matter, though, not when he can still feel the burning weight of Myungsoo’s gaze on his back as he walked away from the apartment.

He really didn’t know what he was thinking when he took off his shirt. To be honest, he wasn’t even thinking of flustering Myungsoo. He just felt wet and annoyed at how much water got on him and took off the shirt to wipe it off of him.

He didn’t count on having Myungsoo turn a boner-inducing gaze on him and Howon almost died trying to stop himself from just jumping the guy, ravishing him on the kitchen floor with how hot and heavy that dark gaze was on him.

He knows that Myungsoo is interested, especially when he started eyeing Howon’s treasure trail — and if his boner is any indication, Howon’s fucking interested as well.

All that’s left is to just kickstart everything.

He walks into his apartment and throws the shirt into the hamper. Howon grabs his phone, and makes a call to his boss.

“Hey Sungjong, I’m taking a night off, yeah. Got something important to do tonight.”

More like someone — someone cute and tall, dark-eyed and pouty and every wet dream Howon has had come to life.

∞

“Fuck.” Howon mutters, later, stretching his arms back and letting out a groan as he lets the ebbing flow of pleasure run through his body. Beside him, Myungsoo presses himself against his chest and wraps an arm. His dark hair is all over the place, his back sweaty but there was no mistaking the sated look in his eyes, especially when he started trailing butterfly kisses against Howon’s neck.

“Yeah,” Myungsoo mirrors the sentiment, voice low and content.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Howon asks lightheartedly. “I could have saved up on my jeans.”

Myungsoo’s hand runs down his side and, grabbing what skin he can, pinches Howon. It’s not painful, but that wasn’t what Myungsoo intended and Howon giggles a bit as he angles his body away from Myungsoo’s hand. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I surrender.”

“Good.”

Howon hums, still feeling pleasant and relaxed after that romp in the sheets and he looks down on Myungsoo and he grins. “I still can’t believe you broke the showerhead just for that.”

Myungsoo levels a glare at him, and Howon sees it doesn’t have any heat. “Shut up about it, already. At least I didn’t get myself wet on my knees trying to close a valve when I could have just bent over.”

“If I had done that, you wouldn’t have seen my gorgeous ass.”

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you? I don’t like you anymore.”

Howon grins and he rolls over until he’s over Myungsoo and he feels slightly victorious as he feels Myungsoo’s length respond when he settles his weight on top of the other.

“Really? You weren’t saying that a while ago. Not to my dick, anyway.”

Howon’s only allowed to grin wide for a few seconds before Myungsoo grabs hold of both of his sides.

The rest of the night (and early morning) he ends up laughing and cackling.

 

 

And every day after? He spends at unit 501.


End file.
